Page 12 of Crown of the Fae King

“It’s gone.”

A moan started deep in my stomach, and he shook my shoulder. “Dinnae fash. This was a mortal’s doing. All is not lost.”

Everything that defined me was suddenly paid off or stolen, and I had to either laugh or cry. I chose a combination of both, though no tears came.

My handsome stranger wasn’t putting up with it. He put his hands under my arms and dragged me up to my feet. “Ye’ll need some clothes. Nothing flashy, if ye please.” He was probably judging my fashion sense by my lovely orange dress, but other than my underwear, my wardrobe was pretty boring.

I struggled for words and came up with one. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you still want me to go with you? I don’t have it anymore. Hank…is someone else’s problem now.”

He was suddenly standing in front of me, putting his hands on the sides of my head and making me look him in the eye. “Yer Hank,whateverit may be, doesnae define ye, Lennon Todd. It cannot. Ye must be more than that if ye hope to survive this.”

I choked on a laugh. “Survive? You didn’t say anything about surviving.”

Astonishinghow little I took out of that apartment. The car had been packed to the gills when Neal and I had left Powell, Wyoming, crammed with boxes containing everything we owned. What valuables he hadn’t pawned off in our darkest hours, he took with him. Along with his clothes, he probably hadn’t filled that knock-off Gucci suitcase I’d bought at Ross.

I stood in the doorway and surveyed the crap I’d once thought essential enough to drag down our gas mileage on our long quest for the ocean. It wasn’t worth a good-bye.

Wickham took the suitcase to the car. It was filled with wrinkled clothes, a few Ziplock bags full of sentimental trinkets like a handful of beads from that jewelry box, and my feather pillow. Over the years, that pillow had dwindled to half its regular size, but I was taught young that feathers mean quality. Mother never specified the number of feathers.

“I need to call my landlord,” I thought out loud.

“I took care of all that. Ye’re well and free of this place.” He came around to open the car door for me, then paused, like he was allowing me time for a fond look back.

I just looked at him. “Are we leaving without Hank?”

“We are not.”

I climbed in the car. After he shut the door, I whispered, “Good.”

Hank was definitely a curse, but I really wouldn’t wish it on anyone else. At least, not yet.

Wickham strapped on his seatbelt.“Enemies, lass. Name them all.”

I laughed. “All? Are you kidding me? I never had time to make enemies.”

He shook his head. “Think.”

I took a deep breath and tried. “Pete, obviously, but he wouldn’t leave his precious domain with Lynette at the till, just to rummage through my stuff.”

“But he knew ye were leavin’ town.”

“True. I only need to look at his face and I’d know. But I’d rather not go back to Twila’s if I can help it.”

“Not a problem. I’ll duck in and have a look.”

“At his face?”

“Aye. What else?”

If I protested that he wouldn’t know if Pete were hiding something, it would mean I would need to go inside instead, so I kept my mouth shut and hoped the for the best.

As we neared the mid-century building, dread built in my stomach like fast-cooling bacon grease, and I knew it wouldn’t go away until we put Hazelton in the rearview mirror. But just how would we do that without a car?

Wickham got out of the car and a minute later, I got a text from Jericho.“Your Scotsman is back. You ok?”

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